


Could you be any louder?

by myn_x



Series: tumblr requests [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Headaches, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8061433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myn_x/pseuds/myn_x
Summary: Anon said: 6 & iwaoi?? ;D see original post here





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing iwaoi :3c

Twin spots of pain pulsed behind Oikawa’s eyes. His serve was way off. He knew he shouldn’t be practicing this hard still, not with a headache like this. He also knew that he’d feel a lot worse later, but he pushed himself anyway. Mizoguchi hadn’t seemed to notice yet, thankfully.

Sweat beaded on his brow and trickled down his back. The ball felt wrong in his hands. He was doing serve drills while some of the team practiced receiving and others honed their blocking.

His ears rang with the sounds of practice: the thwacks of volleyballs on flesh, the shrieks of shoe bottoms against the gym floor, the shouts of “Don’t mind!” and “Nice receive!” Every sound ricocheted against his skull and he felt his carefully constructed composure slip.  

Oikawa heard Iwaizumi’s voice over the din — whatever he’d said made Hanamaki, Matuskawa, and Watari howl like a pack of hyenas. It was nearing the end of practice and they were loitering near an empty cart off the courts.

Something in Oikawa snapped; he turned around sharply, frustration and pain twisting his face. “Could you be any louder?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing sharply, his laugh dying, dead on his lips. Even though he could he could read the pain in his captain’s tense jaws and watery eyes, he countered, “Really, Asskawa? I’m not your lightning rod.”

He stared Oikawa down until he turned to face the net again with a huff, and continued talking to his rigid back. “Whatever your problem is, don’t take it out on me.”

Oikawa didn’t bother responding; he grit his teeth and returned to his serves. Practice had come to an uneasy halt after his outburst, and after he grumbled a mostly insincere apology — he felt like his head was going to implode — to no one in particular, the team started their cool down stretches.

Iwaizumi eyed Oikawa where he sat on the bench as the he led stretching instead (which was how things usually went, as Oikawa often wasn't ready to cool down with the rest because he had to keep going).

The pain from headache radiated to Oikawa's neck, he rubbed the damp skin at his nape, almost savoring the bursts of pain. As everyone shuffled out to change, they gave Oikawa a wide berth, cowed by his unusual quiet, dark mood.

Oikawa started the serve drills again as the last of the team exited; they were all used to him staying late to practice, but Matsukawa and Hanamaki exchanged a heavy glance when they saw how much his first few serves _sucked_. The net caught some, while he outright missed others.

Finally alone, Oikawa let his arms drop, letting the pain and nausea roll over him. It wasn’t passing. He bent over, shivering and dry-retching, eyes squinched shut as he felt his body warring itself.

“This is the third time this week you’ve been like this, but this is definitely the worst bout.” The voice, probably the last voice he wanted to hear right now, barreled its way into Oikawa’s head and he swayed a little. A giggle escaped his throat, then a groan..  

Despite the hands that gripped his shoulders, he still felt weightlessly adrift on waves of sickness.

But somewhat steadied, Oikawa straightened and found himself looking into green eyes. They held none of their previous irritation, but were filled with concern. He was close enough that he could pick out every fleck of brown and gold, even with his slightly blurred vision. Such pretty colors, like that of a precious stone. The colors of Iwa-chan’s eyes.

“Hey, Oikawa? Oikawa!”

He felt like he was underwater — Iwaizumi’s shouting sounded like a whisper, but he was still too loud. Oikawa slurred out a “Shhh!”

Iwaizumi threw one of Oikawa’s arms over his shoulder and half-dragged him to the locker room, which had long since emptied. Incapacitated as he was, Oikawa couldn’t have resisted if he tried.

Steam. So much steam, Oikawa thought as he came to, confused as to why he was wet, why was he wet? And hot? Water poured over his face, pushing his hair into his eyes. He blinked to clear his vision, shifting his wet hair to the side, and realized he was halfway under one of the locker room showers, seated on a chair with his back against the wall. Naked except for his underwear.

Oikawa remembered a deep voice, strong hands, green eyes, a solid body. Iwaizumi. Iwa-chan.

Everyone had left, but Iwaizumi knew to stay. Oikawa clucked his tongue, his mouth tugging up into a half-smile. Something tickled in the back of his mind.

He stood up and stepped out of his underwear, wringing it and draping them over the back of the chair, just as Iwaizumi turned the corner to the showers.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re up.”

“Yeah, I — thank you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said over his shoulder, feigning aloofness. “For taking care of me. And I’m sorry I snapped at you, my head  _hurt_ …”

But it didn't anymore, and Oikawa cut off his excuse for acting like a jackass. He felt mostly fine, just the ghost of an ache behind his eyes. He ran his hands back through his hair, head tipped up, and stepped back under the hot water.

“Don’t mention it. I could tell something was up.” Iwaizumi was in fresh clothes, his arms loosely crossed as he considered Oikawa’s back. He handed over the towel he had thrown across one shoulder after Oikawa shut off the water. “You woke up before, so I knew you were okay, but...How’s your head feel now?”

“Fine.” Oikawa wrapped the towel around his waist, his upper body glistening and wet, and sat on one of the long benches near the showers. He leaned forward, letting his hair drip puddles onto the floor.

Iwaizumi _tsk_ -ed and walked away.

A shadow crossed Oikawa’s vision, and Iwaizumi was back, another towel in hand. He stood right in front of Oikawa, the slightest of blushes tinting his cheeks.

“What, Iwa-chan?”

“Let me… dry you off.” Iwaizumi stepped even closer and threw the towel over Oikawa’s head. _Probably to keep you from seeing that pretty, rosy pink_ , a voice said in Oikawa’s head. “It’s pissing me off, the way you carelessly wet up the floor.”

Where his voice had been gruff and forceful, his hands were gentle as they toweled him off, first his hair, then his face, then his shoulders, then his back, then his chest, where he seemed to linger the longest.  

“Iwa-chan, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re enjoying this,” Oikawa said with a small laugh. Best to play coy.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi’s voice had softened, just like his eyes had.  

 _Bingo_ , thought Oikawa.  

“Only you’d be sappy enough to play hero after I was mean to you.”

“I’m used to cleaning up your messes, Oikawa, even when you _are_ the mess.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa batted at Iwaizumi, who caught his wrists with one hand and used the other to pull Oikawa forward onto his feet so that they were almost touching, chest to chest.

Oikawa’s breath hitched. “Iwa-chan…”

“I was worried about you, you idiot,” Iwaizumi growled. “You’re always pushing yourself too hard. I don’t want you collapsing on me, at least not like that.”

“You’re wrong, Iwa-chan, I don’t push myself hard enough.” Oikawa’s heart thrummed and he avoided looking into Iwaizumi’s eyes, afraid of what else he would see mixed in with the colors. _At least not like that._

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi still had Oikawa’s wrists trapped; with his free hand, he gripped Oikawa’s chin and forced him to look at him, to see.

Oikawa couldn’t take it. He pulled free and sat back down, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I almost like it better when you call me Shittykawa or Asskawa,” he said in a small voice. It sounded hollow in his ears.

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi repeated.

Oikawa looked up and Iwaizumi stepped closer. He wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s shoulders, tugging him forward so that his cheek rested against his stomach. 

A hug. A hug from Iwa-chan. While he was naked. 

It was so bizarre that he couldn’t force his body to resist being drawn in like that, like Iwaizumi was the sun and Oikawa was an asteroid pulled into his orbit.

Beyond the shock of this gentleness, Oikawa felt a hand sift through his still damp hair, felt fingers rub circles into his scalp.

 _Could you be any louder?_ This time, Oikawa directed his question not at Iwaizumi, but inwardly, at his heart.

Oikawa could hear, no, feel, Iwaizumi’s heartbeat too. His ear was pressed to the spot right where Iwaizumi’s abs started, and he felt his quickened pulse through his thin shirt.

“Tooru, I care so much because I love you.”

The confession rang in Oikawa’s ears, like but also unlike the sounds that rang in his ear during practice; whereas those sounds had brought him pain, Iwaizumi’s voice was like a wave breaking gently on a shoreline — it brought him an overwhelming sense of peace and rightness. 

Iwaizumi had long since found a place by Oikawa's side and under his skin, and it took Oikawa nearly dying (maybe not dying, but something close to it, and Iwaizumi _was_ always reminding him of how irresponsible he was with his body) to realize that was where he belonged, where he wanted Iwaizumi to stay because he needed him.

His arms had been numb and unsure of what to do, but now they wrapped around Iwaizumi’s waist tightly. Oikawa nuzzled into the grooved planes of his belly, taking advantage of this new kind of touch.

“Uhh, Tooru?” The worry made Iwaizumi’s voice jump an octave.

“I love you too, silly Iwa-chan,” Oikawa spoke into Iwaizumi’s shirt. “Maybe that’s why I heard your voice, Hajime, over all the others, over all that noise.”

Iwaizumi snorted, settling one hand on Oikawa's shoulder, and with the other he mussed his damp hair. "Don't make me take it back."

"You wouldn't." Oikawa hummed, knowing he was right. He didn't mind messy hair if Iwaizumi was the cause. He wouldn't mind a lot of things, he realized, if it meant he could stay right there.  

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com) || [other tumblr](http://zeppellii.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovedeluxxxe)


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